


a soul is a soul

by quistal



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Fluff, Other, Sick Fic, emet-selch is a sad emotional grandpa, merry christmas to my secret santa Ryuuza!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quistal/pseuds/quistal
Summary: Written for Kupo! FFXIV Secret Santa 2019 for Ryuuza_Art on Twitter!Ryuuza, the Warrior of Light, falls ill - a rare occurrence. Emet-Selch reminisces about the past. Takes place at some point during the 5.0 MSQ, while Emet-Selch is observing the WoL and their companions. Emet-Selch/WoL, past Hades/WoL. ShB spoilers.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 22





	a soul is a soul

Ryuuza Katrieze, the one and only Warrior of Light, renowned now not only a world over but  _ worlds  _ over, simply did not catch colds. Their talent for alchemy and medicine and their penchant for consumption of all manner of questionable things maintained a hale and resilient body that not even the unforgiving Coerthan winters could affect. 

Regardless, Ryuuza had found themselves bedridden with what had to be the worst cold in Eorzean history. They sneezed violently, and were grateful once again that their friends insisted they recouperate before continuing on their quest. As much as the party wanted to dispel the light as quickly as possible, they would get nowhere if the Warrior was out of commission. The others had gone to continue gathering information, while Ryuuza attempted to sleep the worst of the fever off. Thankfully, they had been able to make some medicine to stave off the worst of the symptoms, and were, at the moment, though still feeling quite bad, not feeling quite as horribly as they had been before.

_ Perhaps it is the exposure to new pathogens in this world that do not exist on the Source _ , Ryuuza speculated to themselves, momentarily lost in the thoughts of all the new plant and animal life on the First, so different yet strangely similar to many things on the Source. 

They were surprised out of the beginnings of a new recipe for a fever potion by the sudden apparation of a certain Ascian into the room.

"Well, well. The great Warrior of Light fallen to a little cold. I am continually disappointed in the fragility of mortals."

"Emet-Selch... to what do I owe the honor of your visit?" Ryuuza asked, holding back a fit of coughs.

Emet-Selch wasn't quite sure why he had felt the need to come, himself. His presence would make no difference to them, he was sure. But he had been keeping tabs on their progress, and when he learned Ryuuza had fallen ill, he had felt the need to verify their well-being with his own eyes.

"I simply thought to continue my observation."

"Hmm... And what do you see?" 

Emet-Selch's eyes stared into Ryuuza, into the tiny, pale flame of their soul, a sad mockery of what once was. But the color was unmistakable, as always, and beautiful. It flickered dangerously with the fever.

"Such weakness only reminds me of how pitiful and broken the world has become."

"And I suppose there was no sickness in your paradise?"

* * *

"Hades... why are you here?" a weak voice protested.

Emet-Selch was a young man again, at  _ their _ bedside unannounced while they recovered from an aether sickness. To the Ascians who could will anything into reality, it was as easy to create misfortunes and disease as it was to create solutions and convenience, particularly for the younger ones, who did not yet have a full grasp on their power. It seemed one of the little ones had thought up something rather contagious, and even their friend Hythlodaeus had contracted it before it was put under control. The Bureau of the Architect must have been in disarray without their chief. The Fourteen would likely soon be in disarray, if he did not leave immediately for their meeting.

Even back then they'd had a gift for medicine, and despite falling ill, had not stopped to rest until enough medicine had been created to treat every citizen who had contracted the illness, and perhaps it was the loss of aether required to produce the medicine, but they had still not recovered themselves. He hated to see the way their soul flickered with the illness. Less akin to a blaze, and more like a fragile candle in the wind. He knew he would be quite lost if he were to ever see it doused.

But a small part of him was happy to be able to see them without the mask for so long, and he was unable to stop himself from reaching out to brush his knuckles over an overheated cheek. 

"Hades... The others in the Fourteen may question your appointment if you linger too long. I shall be fine."

"You of all people know I never wanted the mantle of Emet-Selch."

"But you've worn it well this short while, and it is an important duty."

"An important duty to the city, perhaps, but there are duties more important to me."

At this, they smiled softly and reached a hand from under the blankets to meet the hand at their cheek, lacing their fingers into his and laying a kiss at his knuckles, and at Hades's sour expression but reluctant allowance of the show of affection, they laughed as loudly as their condition would allow, until it grew into a round of hacking coughs.

When it died down, Hades squeezed the warm hand in his.

"You cannot be expected to do proper creation magicks with your mind clouded by fever and yourself lacking the energy to expend. You know well the dangers of uncontrolled magic, and I would stay here to ensure you make no idiotic attempts at it."

"A simple 'I care about you, and I worry for you' would suffice."

"...Perhaps I should attend the meeting after all."

This time, Hades was disappointed to hear them hold back their wonderful laugh, but thankful that no coughs followed.

"Hades, I'm dreadfully cold. Pray come warm me up and supply me another blanket."

* * *

Suddenly, Emet-Selch found himself feeling very out of place. Ryuuza wasn't  _ them _ , and he shouldn't feel the need to help. He flexed his hand - it was cold. Even though Ryuuza was their own person, a part of him longed to brush his hand over their fevered cheek and feel their fingers laced with his. 

"You can sit down, you know," Ryuuza’s voice pulled him from the memory, and he was startled to find his feet had taken him closer to the bed. Whatever odd hope or feeling that had led him to appear before Ryuuza in this moment bid him to sit, and he did.

“A Gil for your thoughts? You looked quite lost in them.”

“It’s nothing. You simply remind me of someone I knew once,” he dismissed.

“Someone very important, I take it, for you to go to such lengths to give our quest a chance and to even visit me on my sickbed.”

At this, Emet-Selch went silent for a time. It was not that he was uncomfortable with sharing such information. There was certainly a part of him that had been overjoyed at finding a piece of his beloved, no matter how small, and had hope for something, no matter how illogical. But while he held some hope the Warrior would prove him wrong, and there might be a better solution, one that didn’t require the destruction of worlds, he did not believe in it. The more likely outcome was still a fight to the death. And even if it was a fragment of  _ them  _ standing in his way, he would be doing it for them, too.

“I won’t pry if you don’t intend to tell me. But Emet-Selch… you’re much more sentimental a man than you lead others to believe. Caring, even…”

The way trying to focus on Emet-Selch as they spoke made the room spin told Ryuuza that their fever was climbing once more.

“I believe my medicine must be wearing off… there should be more in my pack - a clear phial...” 

Ryuuza heard Emet-Selch rustle through the bag.

“There is no such thing.”

“I must have taken one more dose than I remembered… I have no choice but to make more.”

Ryuuza made to force their shaking body upright, but were startled to see Emet-Selch rise from his seat to glare down at them.

“It seems unwise for one as weak as yourself to put excess strain on your body when it is already in such poor condition. Creation magic is not so harmless as you seem to think. I simply need to know the ingredients that must be used, and I will procure the potion for you.”

Despite the fever, the opportunity to discuss the topic of botany and alchemy gave Ryuuza no small burst of enthusiastic energy - perhaps the last of their energy - and they launched into an explanation of their recipe.

"I had a thought that lime basil might be a good basis for a fever reduction potion, due to its vitality restoring properties, which I discovered accidentally after ingesting it on one of my visits to Lakeland. The addition of aethersand would likely strengthen its effects enough to manage even my current symptoms-"

Emet-Selch watched as Ryuuza's tired face lit up to speak of potions and medicine. So familiar, yet so very different. But it seemed they were reaching their limits, as they began to trail off. It was no matter, though - Ryuuza had clearly conveyed the key ingredients to the drought.

"-It's just… so fascinating to create new things, especially through the synthesis of existing life or other things found in nature… especially if it can be helpful to others…”

_ “ _ A soul is a soul, no matter how small the piece,” Emet-Selch supposed softly. 

What he had meant, Ryuuza was not completely sure, and the fever had grown severe enough that they had felt their consciousness waning. But later, Ryuuza could recall a bitter potion at their lips and cold knuckles brushing over their cheek before they fell into a dreamless, healing sleep. And upon waking, a second blanket, soft and warm, tucked kindly over their form.

**Author's Note:**

> This was really fun to write. Thank you for letting me play with your WoL! I took some liberties with both Ryuuza and Emet-Selch, but I hope it’s to your liking, and Merry Christmas!


End file.
